Eyes in Which the Fires of War Burn
by GaolerWench
Summary: These orbs; so haunted and yet innocent at the same time. Eyes are the window to the soul, but what happens when the body itself is a soul? Not all is laid bare... A series of drabbles that will continue until the muse abandons m.
1. Kurosaki Ichigo

A lone figure stood before a line of his enemies. Though, at closer look, this figure was naught but a boy. Pressure filled the air as he grinned, driving the opposition to their knees. One by one his enemies fell until the last charged unexpectedly. The boy was rent from shoulder to hip, crimson staining the ground below the color of death. His eyes were conquered by the pain, no longer a warm brown tone, but cloudy amber. He let out a weak whimper (of protest, maybe?), and weakly lifted his head to stare at his enemy.

A psychotic grin spilt his visage as his eyes inverted, irises bleeding gold. He chuckled, a disturbing sound, and rose to his feet. With a flourish, he charged head on at the other.

What was the last thought to stain his opponent's eyes dark, you ask?

"Damn you, Aizen Sousuke."

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><p><strong>AN: The start of a long series of drabbles. Long because there are <em>way<em> too many fun characters in Bleach.**

**I don't own Bleach. But I _do _have a wallscroll, Grimmjow plushie, and like half of the whole series in my bookcase.**


	2. Urahara Kisuke

Green eyes peeked out from under the rim of a hat. No normal green eyes mind you, but eyes that held too much depth than to match the man's youthful appearance. Sandy blonde hair competed with the hat's shadow, fighting to be seen. A smirk crossed the man's stubble-ridden face, eyes briefly glinting. His continually smirking mouth opened-

"BANKAI!"

-and the world exploded into chaos.

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><p><strong>AN: Tch. Too short. It <em>is<em> a drabble, though...**


	3. Shihoin Yoruichi

Golden eyes peered up through the barrier that currently held their owner. They shimmered and flashed with a strange iridescence, the reflection of light from the barrier offsetting rich purple hair and chocolate skin.

She, in one quick motion, slammed shoulder-first into the wall (what it was made of, she did not know). A quick expression of triumph graced her beautiful face, but slowly a grimace of realization came to replace it. _I am stuck…_ Her mind whispered solutions, and again and again she pulled at her prison, each tug garnering a sucking noise and a cringe of pain.

Finally, she collapsed upon the ground, her gold eyes shining with pain and perhaps—was that pride? Pride for the master who had placed her here; pride for the friendship they had shared (until he defected, of course).

Her deep, shining eyes turned to the sky as she praised her captor for his superior ability in Bakudo to keep her held, and cursed him, Urahara Kisuke, for betraying her.


	4. Kuchiki Rukia

Hazel eyes met purple in an astounding show of will. They seemed to clash just as their swords did, dancing with the primal fury of battle. Sparks from their furious dance radiated outward off the blades, filling the air around them with light.

One of the fighters cackled, her amaranthine eyes glinting with the joy of the fight. She smirked, parrying his blow, and then slashed through the spaced where his stomach used to be.

He was not so fast as to reach much farther than a yard before her steel met his once again. He charged her, using his longer blade to his advantage. He swung once, twice, thrice, until she lay on the ground panting.

"You did well."

The purple-eyed woman glared up at him with such malice that one could surely believe that they were the harshest of enemies. However, the grin he shot her and the wink returned put to rest such assumptions.

He offered her a hand, his eyes gleaming; she accepted, walking along the path from which they had come.

Their night was filled with camaraderie and laughter, for the first time she had come close to winning against him was today.

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><p><strong>AN: If you would like to suggest a character, the review button is always open!<strong>


	5. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

Cerulean eyes flashed with cold anger; deep within they held a flame that could set even the hardiest man to trembling. They swept back and forth over the plains, searching for something unknown, and unseen.

He let out an explosive sigh, ruffling the fringe of electric blue hair that fell in his eyes. He fell back, landing with a dull _thunk_ in the sand. His eyes clouded with thought as he pondered the newcomers that seemed too powerful for humans.

However, the ability to sit stationary and think was not a well-developed trait of his, so within seconds he was up again, wearing a groove in the sand.

Somehow, without hurting himself, he came to an obviously needed conclusion. _He must die for shaming me!_

So, with the eternal fire burning in his eyes, he set off to find Kurosaki Ichigo.

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><p><strong>AN: Any ideas are welcome... <strong>


	6. Szayel Apporo Grantz

This… this _thing_ was complete. It functioned, its whirring disturbing the dead silence in the amphitheater; the unusual noise echoing like the _crack_ of a whip.

Amaranthine eyes flashed upwards, taking in the entire expanse of the bastard machine. Its only purpose was to be exploited by Aizen; in this way it mirrored its maker.

With deceptively trembling hands, the man reached forward to reverently stroke the masterpiece. With a deft flick of his wrist he flipped a switch, the humming becoming almost unbearable. Out from the gut of the machine came a glowing light and a putrid smell.

The brilliant purple eyes flickered with disgust as _something_ emerged from the bowels of the machine. It was covered in a membrane of the darkest black, but that was quickly cleared away by impatient hands. The creature that could be seen underneath was a monstrosity. It appeared to be a cross between the meanest Hollow and the most angelic Shinigami.

With a twisted smirk that shone even in its deadened eyes, it raised a hand to its mouth and spoke:

"_Die!_"

The sands of Hueco Mundo slaked their thirst of Arrancar blood that day.

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><p><strong>AN: Once again, I'll write whatever character you suggest. Just drop a review with hisher name!**


	7. Ukitake Jushiro

Liquid green eyes flashed with pain as the body that held them convulsed. Coughs wracked the thin frame, the man bending at the waist to compensate for the violent tremors.

He lay upon silk sheets; sadly, their splendor was spoiled by the blood spilling from the lips of the man. He blindly groped for a rag to muffle his coughs, but his arm swiftly slammed back to the bed, scrambling for purchase on the soft material.

After what seemed like ages, the attack subsided. His eyes of green cleared, awareness returning as the tremors ceased.

A shock of loneliness hit him then; he had no one to hold him as the fits came upon him, no one would be there to help him clean the blood off of his sickly frame.

_I am useless… an inv—_

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the slamming of his manor's door.

"Jushiro!" A familiar voice called out.

As Kyoraku Shunsui sauntered into the room, he realized that he wasn't so alone after all.


	8. Sado 'Chad' Yasutora

"What are you doing?" A rough voice came from his left.

Chocolate brown eyes peered up at the speaker, squinting from the excess light the sun expelled. They blinked, once, twice, then returned to the figure he was carving out of a block of wood.

"Carving." He grunted.

The newcomer rolled his eyes. "I can see that. You do know that class starts in ten minutes."

He 'hmm'ed noncommittally.

The other groaned, turning about to head to school.

Hidden brown eyes shone as a smile imprinted itself upon his face as he chuckled. He would enjoy the normality of Karakura until it was there no more.


	9. Kurosaki Yuzu

"I love you, Ichi-nii!" A little brown-haired girl cried.

The other's face crinkled in smile. He swiveled around and made his way upstairs, leaving the girl alone to clean the dishes.

Upon his disappearance, her eyes fell to the plate she clutched in her small hands. She scrubbed with a fervency that felt familiar to her, warm toffee-colored eyes flicking from the dish to the stairs frantically.

Her Ichi-nii hadn't been acting like he used to. He was more tired than ever, his grades were dropping, and she couldn't remember the last time he had gone somewhere without Rukia-nii or one of the others.

His eyes were haunted. She, at a mere twelve years, had never seen eyes so old upon the face of a high school student.

So she resolved not to ask questions (for when she did, he either closed himself off or lied so obviously it was almost painful); they'd only bring her and her family pain.

_I'll make the sacrifices for this family. I _can _do it!_

Little did she know that Ichigo sat on the stairs watching her face crumple into determination, a sad smile staining his lips.

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><p><strong>AN: Suggestions are welcome!<strong>


	10. Nnoitra Gilga

"You suck."

"Hmm."

"You really suck." _Someone's getting irritated._

"Hmm."

"Guess how much you suck?" He grinned maniacally.

"Hmm." A cocked brow.

"You suck so much you can't even kill that idiot Kurosaki!"

Black eyes blazed so fiercely that if looks could kill, Grimmjow would be dead where he sat. The man flung himself across the table, taking the Sexta down with him.

Never before have the walls of Las Noches witnessed such a brawl.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry it's not so apparent whom the focus is on. <strong>


	11. Hinamori Momo and Kira Izuru

"Are you all right?" Emerald green eyes shone in the light of his grief; they watched the woman that lay upon the hospital-like bed intently.

"I know you can't hear me. It's just… I mi—_we_ miss you. Me, and Shuuhei, and Hitsugaya-taicho. He comes to see you every day, you know." He quickly blinked back tears. It just wouldn't do to have an acting captain cry over such a trivial thing.

_But it's not trivial!_ The tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, staining lines quite similar to one of their opponents upon his face.

_Now is not the time to think of that. I must be strong._

With a great hiccupping sob, Kira Izuru turned heel and began to leave, stopping only to glance back and say:

"We need you, Momo. We need you _now._"

He strode out the door, glancing back; his viridian eyes held endless sorrow. He took one step and _shunpo_'ed out of the building.

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><p>Five minutes after her old friend left, Momo opened her amaranthine eyes.<p>

"Izuru," she whimpered, "you don't understand. I have to serve Aizen-sama. Even if that means deceiving you all."

Three days later, she was gone.

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter is dedicated to <em>mysterios luv <em>who is my only reviewer (currently), suggested the characters, and had a conversation with me about the stupid, 20-degree weather.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Inoue Orihime

_This is such a strange place…_ There were many thoughts cartwheeling through the mind of one Inoue Orihime, but only one emotion shone in her dusky violet-gray eyes. Longing.

They skimmed over the horizon, coming to rest for short spurts on the small Hollow creatures that, truthfully, did not at all resemble the others of their kind. They possessed no hearts, sure, but they were so vulnerable, so fragile… Just like her.

Those eyes swiveled towards the daylight moon, pleading—no, _praying_—for her Kurosaki-kun to come to her.


	13. Shiba Kaien

His sad brown eyes were the last thing he would ever imprint upon her vision. She had originally rejected the scene (_his eyes aren't _supposed_ to be sad, they're meant to shine like the sun_), but now she turned to the memory for comfort, taking in the familiar orbs settled in a face that haunted her every day.

_It's not fair!_ With a mighty punch she flattened the pillow that, until now, had absorbed all of her tears. _Why do they all have to die…? Hisana, Kaien… _

With a sad sigh, the girl closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep, the image of those warm hazel eyes imprinted upon her brain.


	14. Aizen Sousuke

The rain poured down from the sky, frozen and driving. Dead, cold brown eyes stared up into the downpour, willing it to do him any damage. He knew that rain was rain; it wouldn't do anything but soak him. But, to some, the rain is a vehicle of glory: a cleansing device that God employs to wash the Earth clean.

But this man, this Aizen Sousuke, would stand uncleansed, for no rain could wash a soul as evil as his.


	15. Kyoraku Shunsui

He detested his sickness, the insubstantial thing that kept his oldest friend preoccupied through every single day of his life. This completely horrid preoccupation that the illness had with Juushiro made him uneasy; therefore, it was completely practical that he abhorred it.

Many a time it was when a sudden cough (or even a fever) would damper their moods, killing joy just as easily as a bad attitude would. Oh, how he wished that Juushiro had a bad attitude; even a prickly demeanor would have been better than the affliction he was required to struggle with.

But he would still be Juushiro's friend, for how could he not, what with all their history together? Even if he could not be the life-partner that Juushiro was looking for, he would still stand by his side, resolute, until flames engulfed the world.


	16. Hisagi Shuuhei

Bronze-tanned hands swung upward to—just lightly—brush the dark tattoo that graced his stony visage. He winced, a shudder tearing through his body, as pain shot through him; his skin was far too sensitive to the touch.

_That's the last time I get a tattoo._

But he didn't regret it. This permanent mark was a symbol of the bond he possessed (or he _thought _he possessed) with his savior. He would bear it with pride, for if he could not, how could he bear the burdens of a Shinigami?


	17. Ichimaru Gin

Only three people had ever seen his eyes. The _soutaicho_ was not one of them. Matsumoto, Inoue, and I were the only souls allowed to stare into his not-quite-permanently closed orbs.

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><p>His submittance to be was not by choice. I stumbled upon him as he lay, dying, on the blood-spattered roads of the fake Karakura town.<p>

His weakness startled me; never had I seen the sly ex-captain brought so low. But what almost struck me to my knees were his eyes. They burned a fiery red, not at all the unnerving blue-green that the weaker Shinigami (and some of the stronger) speculated about. Unnerving, still, but impossibly human; _this _was what killed the image of an evil fox that manipulated and killed to reach its goals, that I had transposed upon this man. I found I couldn't hate him anymore.

I crouched, wavering between the desire to help, to staunch his bleeding, and the urge to fetch Matsumoto so that she would be the one to kneel by his side in his dying moments.

As I wobbled on the precipice of decision, he hacked, strangled Japanese emerging from the rasping; sounds formed to make words, words to a message that only I heard.

My eyes flew open wide, shock shutting down my thinking processes. I dwelled on the hiss he had shot me for only a moment, murmuring, "Be at peace," and darting away from the piteous scene.

The constant rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement lulled me into a state in which I could think. Kurotsuchi had cameras everywhere, even within the buildings. Did he catch the whispered, one-sided conversation between the supposed traitor and me? He couldn't have. I couldn't take any chances, however; I would be hyper-vigilant from now to the end of my proximity to the bastardized _thing_ of a man.

This message was too important to risk.

I must tell you, for if I did not, how else would you and others like myself know to rise up?

The message was as follows: _"He planned it. _He_ ordered us to. The Visoreds are next."_

Who is the "he" so emphatically spoken about, you ask? Yamamoto, it had to be.

And I am a Visored.

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><p><strong>AN: Even though there are many characters in Bleach (some may say far too many), I am constantly searching for a one that I could write about. <strong>

**If you have any suggestions, drop a review, and I'll start writing immedeately.**

**About my updates: I write multiple drabbles at a time (6-10) and I wait to post them on the weekend, or whenever I have free time.**


	18. Barrangan Luisenbarn

He wasn't a tortured man. Oh, no; whoever actually _thought_ that he was lack a quite a few marks of intelligence.

One could say, in defense of one such person, that the haunted look in his sunken eyes hinted at a hard, long life. Of course, to ones like he was, this was painfully and laughably incorrect. That dead look, the one seemingly filled with pain, was only his darkened soul shining through the oddly-luminescent orbs, watching this sandy world like an eagle waiting for prey.

And, in war times like these, it is painfully easy to see.


	19. Hollow Ichigo

"Let me out!" He roared, inverted, feral yellow eyes flashing.

He thrashed, tearing with an astounding ferocity at the restraints that held him immobile against one of the horizontal buildings that made up the _boy_'s mental world.

After a while of vicious struggling, he ceased, a fanged smirk spreading across his chalky face. With a shout full of primitive hatred, he expended what could be all of his reiatsu in a barbarous pulse, tearing the blue tinted world to shreds.

A scream of pain echoed through the strange world, causing the now-impossibly weakened hollow to smirk at his hard-earned victory.

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><p><strong>AN: Yay, Hollow Ichigo! I don't feel like I've done him justice, though... I see another drabble concerning this guy in the fic's future!<strong>


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